


By the Door

by StarrySkies282



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: A thing, Mainly Jenkins, Other, Some Jenkins musings, featuring the back door, he’s being sentimental, i realised I haven’t written much Jenkins, others are mentioned - Freeform, this idea came to me really late at night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-24 04:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrySkies282/pseuds/StarrySkies282
Summary: Jenkins is supposed to be working but he just can’t focus...





	By the Door

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... I realised I haven’t really done anything Jenkins-centric so here goes :)

The Annex was quiet. Jones and Cassandra were out somewhere, probably causing trouble where they should be fixing it. Baird was again looking into the Library’s security system, sighing over its flaws, Flynn was God knows where, and Stone was deep within the Library’s archives, no doubt fangirling over some Di Vinci work or other.  
That left Jenkins by himself that afternoon at his desk, trying to figure out a more precise location for a certain artefact that he urgently needed recovered.  
But he found his mind wandering, not for the first time that day.  
Lost in thought, he turned his gaze towards the Back Door, and his eyes came to rest on a familiar row of shoes. He saw Colonel Baird’s boots, polished to army regulation. She had the same bootlaces as Flynn. Next to hers were Ezekiel’s. Brand-new, expensive looking. Probably stolen. Jenkins smiled to himself. Then there were Cassandra’s pale pink boots with the blue laces, and Jenkins thought, if ever there was a boot that could describe a person, it was these describing Miss. Cillian. Dainty, yet so bright and full of life. And Stone’s scuffed, worn, slightly faded workers boots. They had character. Like the architecture he so often admired. Beside his were Flynn’s. Brown, soft leather: stretched and comfortable. Made, in Jenkins’ opinion, to go about wandering the earth in.  
It made him think about how much these people had bought into his life since first disrupting the peace of his peaceful Annex. And he realised now how much they meant to him. All of them; after getting used to the fact that they were there to stay. Even the back door that the shoes were beside would not have existed without them being here. How things _had_ changed. For the better—although he’d rather not admit it, particularly to Mr. Jones.  
For an immortal, he thought, he owed rather a lot of his life to mortals.


End file.
